Now that she was back home she sat down and remembered that first night.It was spring of 1973, she was working at Woolworths, her husband had left her... It had been a bad marriage and she would have been glad he’d left, but she had a two year old daughter to raise on her own. It was overwhelming for a twenty-two year old. Working between thirty-two and forty hours a week at minimum wage, she was barely making ends meet, she was forced to apply for public assistance; it was something that. ? ?I thought I was going to die?please don?t beat me again.?Her lips began to pout and shake. I felt bad for making her think that I was about to whip heragain, but at the same time I was pleased that I had found an effective meansof procuring obedience. ?Baby I will never whip you again unless you arepurposefully testing me.? I moved her shirt up to just below her breasts to get a lookat the stinging red marks left by the bite of the whip. They were already fadingas I expected. Still I felt. More

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